


Of Dogs and Cats

by xiolaperry



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light Angst, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2020-05-19 16:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19360705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiolaperry/pseuds/xiolaperry
Summary: Rumplestiltskin, the spinner, was a dog person. The Dark One admired cats. And Mr. Gold was someone else entirely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic EVER. Yikes.

Rumplestiltskin, the spinner, was a dog person. He had been ever since his aunties had presented him with a sheepdog when he was 12 years old.

“You've been doing so well,” Aunt Chloris began.

“And working so hard,” Aunt Matilda continued. 

“That we've decided to keep more sheep.”

“You're going to need some help taking care of them,” finished Aunt Matilda, as Aunt Chloris rose and stepped outside. Rumplestiltskin was mystified for a moment when she returned with a wriggling sack. Then a small shaggy head poked out of it.

“Is it mine?” he asked, hoping he had not misunderstood, and the puppy was for him to keep.

“Who else is going to help you with the sheep? They're not going to herd themselves!”

“Thanks, Aunties! Does he have a name?”

“No, it's up to you to choose a good name. Names are important,” said Aunt Matilda. “Now run along, take him outside and make friends with him.” 

Friends. What Rumplestiltskin wanted more than anything. But who wanted to be friends with the son of the village con-artist? The son he hadn't loved enough to keep. Who would be friends with a boy abandoned with “those two odd women”? Two women, unrelated, living together without need or desire for a man, were regarded with suspicion by the village. Rumplestiltskin never complained. Not when he wasn't invited to join in the other children's games, not when he was ignored on the road. 

But now he would have a friend of his own.

“Friend,” he whispered. “That's what your name is. Friend.”

And that is exactly what he became.

Friend lived a good long life, helping with the sheep and being his closest companion. Milah had scoffed at his tears when the sheepdog died. There had been other sheepdogs, of course, but he didn't have the same special connection with them as with Friend. He had a wife to take care of (and try to make friends with), and later on, he had Bae. And Bae was everything.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One, no longer enjoyed the company of dogs. They cowered before him, frightened, sensing the Darkness within him. He had tolerated the last sheepdog until Bae left (lost him, he's gone and its YOUR FAULT, his mind always added) and after that, he had sold it along with the remaining sheep. He had a Curse to craft and realms to cross and no desire to care for anything or anyone until he was reunited with Bae.

Rumplestiltskin never used to like cats. He didn't care for their aloof manner. But now as the Dark One, he found himself admiring their sensual grace and glittering eyes. How they could spend hours motionless, waiting for their prey to emerge from a hole. He could see a bit of himself in the cat playing with the mouse, letting it escape only to catch it again before finishing it off with sharp claws and gleaming teeth.

And now his maid, who had turned his world upside down, had brought a cat into the castle. Not just a cat, but a mother cat with kittens. Belle had found them nearly frozen to death, caught in an unseasonably late blizzard. He had his suspicions as to the cause of this spring storm. He had been tinkering with a particularly fiddly potion, and as he liked to remind everyone, all magic comes with a price.

Belle had set them up in the kitchen with a basket and blanket around the corner of the hearth, hidden from view. As if he wouldn't notice. What kind of wizard would not be aware of new creatures entering his home? He waited two days, until Belle started to relax, thinking her small charges might escape his notice. Then he pounced.

“Decided to make some new friends, dearie?” he asked dramatically, appearing directly in front of her in the kitchen. Rumplestiltskin regretted his choice of words the moment they left his mouth, reminding him of the words his aunts used countless years before. He covered his discomfort with a quip: “Or are we low on fresh meat?”

“Rumplestiltskin, please don't make me put them out in the cold,” she said, ignoring his sarcastic comments. “The kittens are so small, and they'd never survive this unnatural storm.”

He affected a disdainful air as he leaned forward to get a better look at them. The mother cat growled and hissed as she hunched over her kittens protectively.

“Please don't be angry,” Belle began to plead.

“I would never be angry with a mother protecting her babies from a monster.”

“You are NOT a monster.”

“No need for flattery, they can stay. We have too many rodents anyway.”

She moved close to him and took his hand the way she had when he had gifted her the library. He felt that fluttery feeling inside and his black heart flipped in his chest. If he didn't know better, he'd think there was something like affection in her gaze. Time to remind her who he was.

“Belle,” he said in a low tone, looking into her eyes.

“Yes, Rumplestiltskin?” she answered breathlessly.

“I'd better not find any cat shit in my castle or they WILL be dinner.” And with that, he disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

And then the terrible day came when Belle was gone (DEAD and YOUR FAULT), and all he was left with was a chipped cup, a broken heart and a family of cats in the kitchen.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Gold had an iron-clad clause in his rental agreements- no pets. No dog nails scratching hardwood floors. No cats pissing in corners when some lazy tenant forgot to clean its overflowing litter box. No rodents escaping and chewing holes in the wall. No ferrets stinking up the place. No pets. Period. Full stop.

Of course, everyone thought their pet was special.

“Precious never barks!”

“Ollie always uses the litter box!”

“You'll never even know they're here!”

“How could you be so heartless as to make a child give up his beloved hamster?!”

Sweet talking, groveling, tears. It didn't matter, the end was always the same. He'd produce a copy of the standard rental agreement from his suit pocket as if by magic, and he'd threaten eviction. And then David Nolan would have a new resident at the animal shelter.

He knew they said he was heartless. A monster. They conveniently forgot that they signed an agreement, and he was only enforcing his right to protect his property from damage.

If Mr. Gold had a close friend (which he did not), he might have told them that there was one pet for which he might be tempted to make an exception: a chameleon. 

His childhood in Glasgow had been dark, poor. His father had neither the time nor the inclination to indulge his son. Not with sweets, not with toys, not with affection, not even with his time. His mother was gone and he had no memories of her. He was mostly left to look after himself.

When he was about eight, he made friends with a neighbor in the apartment building. And the neighbor had a chameleon. He would sit enthralled for hours, watching it change to blend into the wallpaper, floor, or upholstery. Gold began to take responsibility for its care. He cleaned its cage every day and gave it fresh water. Looked for crickets and other bugs to give to it. He would hold the lizard in his hand, stroking it gently with one finger as he told it his secrets. He poured all his love that had nowhere else to go into the chameleon. His friend.

And then Malcolm came home one evening and announced that there had been some trouble, and it was time to move on. Immediately. In an hour they and their meager belongings were gone. He shed tears thinking of the chameleon, and his father hit him and told him to stop being a baby. And that was that.

Gold thought of that chameleon often over the years. Thought of it as he blended into his surroundings, unnoticed, amassing money and power. He occasionally thought of himself as a chameleon, adapting and changing to any situation to achieve his goals, first in Glasgow and then the States. Sometimes in a rare flight of fancy, he would wonder what happened to the chameleon. Had it ever escaped? Had it met up with another lizard and set up a wee family?

And now he was in Storybrooke with wealth and power and no need to blend in (unless he wanted to).

The chameleon popped in his mind when he saw the blonde. She caught his eye, vibrant. A bit flashy for his tastes, no fading into the wallpaper for her.

“Swan. Emma Swan,” he heard her say as she signed the register.

It was a punch to the gut. It took everything in him not to reel from the blow. Everything not to crumble under the flood of memory. The trinity of Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One, and Mr. Gold ached with loss. Two thoughts rose like large silver bubbles in the flood of his drowning mind.

Bae.

Belle.

He forced words from his mouth, “Emma. What a lovely name.”

As he turned, another thought came to him. It was nothing when compared to his initial agony of remembrance, but it was painful none the less. 

The chameleon had never existed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another trio of vignettes featuring pets in Rumplestiltskin's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written during Camp NaNoWriMo April 2020. Special thanks to my fellow campers in the "Rumbelle Writers' Realm".
> 
> The "Forgotten Friend Reptile Sanctuary" is an real organization. They did a presentation at my local library for their summer reading program.

Rumplestiltskin approached the back door of his shop. His mind was reeling from the previous night’s encounter with Emma and the resulting flood of memories. But he was still observant enough to notice movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked around, but whatever he'd seen had disappeared.

Later that afternoon he glanced out the back window and saw it. A small black cat, lying in the sun. It was barely larger than a kitten, its ribs visible through its dull fur. His heart ached as he remembered Belle saving the mother cat and her kittens by bringing them into the Dark Castle. 

He went into the refrigerator, looking for something to give it. He had to feed it, to save it. It was what Belle would have done.  She was gone, but he would do this for her memory.

He scraped tuna off of a half-finished sandwich onto a saucer and poured water into the matching teacup. Not _the_ cup. That one was safe at his home. He could almost hear Belle laughing: the Dark One serving a stray cat on fine china dishes. He missed her laughter. He missed everything about her.  
    
Feeling foolish, he opened the door, making as little noise as possible. The cat jumped and ran a short distance away. It turned to stare at him.  
   
“Here, kitty, kitty,” he called in a low voice. He put the water and tuna on the ground. “Little cat, look what I have for you.”  
   
The cat gazed at him with bleary gold eyes. One was nearly pasted shut. He knew it would never come while he stood there, so he closed the door. When he checked back in a few minutes, the cat had eaten the tuna and was lying in the sun again.  
   
Rumplestiltskin called Dove that evening and instructed him to purchase two cat dishes, wet and dry cat food, and cat treats. He delivered them the next day without comment, which was exactly how he liked it.  
   
And so started the routine: a can of food in the morning, dry food in the afternoon and always a bowl of fresh water. After a week he noticed the cat didn’t run as far when he opened the door. He set up a small table and chair not far from the bowls. He put out some treats, sat down and waited.  The little cat came and ate them while keeping a wary eye on this new development.  
   
No matter how crazy things started becoming in Storybrooke, he sat outside and had his tea every afternoon. The cat relaxed, coming closer each day. A few times it even came close enough for him to pet it.  
   
One day he sat down and the cat came running. It jumped on his lap, purring and butting its head against his hand for affection.  
   
It was difficult to speak around the lump in his throat. “Hello, little cat.” He stroked its black fur, no longer dull but glossy with health. Its bright gold eyes looked at him. Rumplestiltskin felt silly talking to a cat, but really, who else did he have to talk to?  
   
“I should give you a name. Names are important. I had cats once, back in my castle.  I could do magic then. You should have seen the treats I would conjure for them. I would sit in my kitchen and pet them, just like this. My caretaker had... gone, you see, and I was lonely. They were her cats, actually. I never even knew their names.  Why didn’t I ask her? She would have picked the perfect names. I would have given anything- well, I can’t name you. _I won’t_. The things I care for are always taken from me.”  
   
He placed the cat on the ground and returned to his shop, weary to his bones. Old. There was so much to do. There was magic to bring back to Storybrooke. 

\----

The jingle of the bell signaling the departure of the Charmings from his shop was a wonderful sound, second only to the one it made when it announced Belle's entrance.  When she walked in, picnic basket in hand and a smile on her face he almost forgot how to breathe. A smile. For him, the Dark One. Genuine smiles directed at him were rare things, precious. Then the Charmings had barged in, hurling accusations and interrupting their time together.

But Belle, his fearless scholar, had defended him. And now the “heroes” were gone. Rumplestiltskin was still tense. Belle would have questions. He needed to show her part of himself – pieces of truth, honesty of the heart. He wondered how large a piece of himself he would need to carve out.

Belle broke into his musings. “Rumple, I never pictured you as a dog person! Please tell me about your 'sheepdog or two'?”

He relaxed a bit. This piece he could give. It was still difficult. It had been years, centuries, since someone had been interested in him as a man, not as the Dark One. His instinct was deflection. Information was power. It could be used against you. Change was needed though, or he would lose her (again) forever. This would be good practice.

“You might have surmised from my hobby that I was a spinner in my previous life. What I spun was wool, into the finest yarn ever seen. And the best way to get good wool is to have your own sheep. And taking care of sheep is easier with a good sheepdog.”

“Were they just work animals or were they pets?” asked Belle, enthralled.

“I named my first dog Friend if that tells you anything.”

“That's so sweet, Rumple.”

“I was just a boy when I got him, and not very imaginative when it came to names. But he _was_ my friend. I'm sure it is hard to believe, given my sunny disposition, but I didn't have many of those,” he said wryly. He continued in a more serious tone, “Having the unconditional love of a dog was a wonderful thing.”

He could have elaborated, explained. About the father who abandoned him. The villagers who shunned him. His aunties who loved him. It was the only good thing his father had ever done for him, and it wasn't even on purpose. Malcolm knew the women would jump at the opportunity to have a child, having no chance at one of their own. Luck was on his side, and they were loving and kind. No need to go into that now. Dogs. That was what honesty required today.

He continued, “My boy, Baelfire, had a limitless imagination. No plain name for his dog. He named him Sir Beric Dondarrion, Brave Hero of the Frontlands. He and that dog had many grand adventures. Slaying dragons, defeating ogres, saving damsels in distress. I looked forward to hearing his stories every night as I spun. Those were some of the happiest times of my life.”

Rumplestiltskin stopped. He didn't know what else to say. He couldn't bear to tell how the story of Bae's Sir Beric the Brave ended.

_Hordor and his men taunting and threatening Bae. Bullies, all of them. The dog jumping to the boy's defense, growling and snapping. Hordor killing the dog without a thought, then laughing at his son's tears._

Killing Hordor was one of the most satisfying things Rumplestiltskin had done as the Dark One.

The silence was becoming awkward and he didn't know how to fill it. Belle saved him- she always saved him.

“Would you like to see what I brought for dessert?” she asked.

“Yes, I would,” he answered, grateful.

Belle chattered on, telling him in significant detail about the amazing cake whose ingredients came neatly packaged all in one box. He took a piece.

“Thank you,” he said. What he couldn't say was thank you for seeing I was trapped in my memories. Thank you for wanting to know me. And thank you for not forcing me to share more than I was ready for.

\----                 

Belle mentioned the reptile show in passing at breakfast. Rumple, busy making faces at a smiling Gideon, almost missed it.

“What did you say? Something about a reptile show?”

“I said I had to leave early to set up extra chairs. 'Forgotten Friend Reptile Sanctuary' is coming, and we always have an excellent turn out for storytime when there's a special presentation.”

“What kind of reptiles?”

“I don't know, I think the reptile lady said something about an iguana, some snakes, a chameleon. Why? Are you considering attending today?”

This had been a source of mild disagreement between them. Rumplestiltskin had assured her he thought it was important that she have time away from Gideon, and working a few mornings at the library made her happy. Having Gideon with him at his shop was the highlight of his week. But the Dark One did not attend storytime. Besides, Belle took him to baby lap-sit storytimes on one of the days she didn't work. He hadn't budged. But now....

“Just curious, that's all,” he answered, striving for nonchalance.

Belle gave them each a kiss, and she left.

9:50 found him hesitating at the door of the library. He told himself he ridiculous. The chameleon had never existed. It was a figment of Mr. Gold's cursed memories. But he remembered it so vividly. He had loved that wee lizard. And now was his chance to see one and show it to Gideon.

The chatter between the mothers died down as soon as they saw him enter the room. He sat down in a chair in the front middle of the semicircle, figuring it would give him the best view. He placed the diaper bag on the seat to his left, and Gideon's blanket to his right to dissuade anyone from sitting next to him.

Belle was speaking to a woman wearing a “Forgotten Friend” shirt. She turned to see what had caused everyone to quiet down.

“Rumple!” she said, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“Gideon wanted to see the reptiles,” he answered, bouncing the smiling six-month-old on his lap.

The woman saved him from a further reply.

“Hello, my name is Miss Pam. If all the children would come sit on the floor in front of me, we can begin.”

Rumplestiltskin waited through the snakes, the anoles, the bearded dragons, the iguana, and others. Children raised their hands to volunteer to be helpers as she uncovered cages and presented each one.

There was only one cage left.

“Who would like to help present our last friend?” asked Miss Pam. “I'll give you a clue as to her identity- she can change colors.”

Rumplestiltskin stood little Gideon on his lap and raised the boy's hand. He could feel Belle's eyes boring into the back of his head at this out of character behavior. He would have to explain later.

 Miss Pam smiled.  “How about this young man,” she said, pointing at Gideon.

He stood up, holding Gideon on one hip as Miss Pam uncovered the chameleon's cage. She talked for a few minutes about its diet, its ability to change colors and its natural habitat.

“Mr. Gold, this veiled chameleon is quite tame. Could I let her out? She’ll climb on you and the children can get a closer look.”

“Yes, I'd like that very much.” 

Belle continued to stare at him, flabbergasted.

The chameleon climbed to his left shoulder. Rumplestiltskin couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. From his right hip Gideon watched, wide-eyed.

He heard nothing else that was said until the presentation was over and Miss Pam put the lizard away. He thanked the woman and made his way with Gideon to the back of the library. Belle was waiting.

“Rumple-”

“I'm sure you have questions. I'll tell you everything. Tonight.”

“I look forward to it,” Belle said, taking his hand.

A week later,  he came home to a box wrapped in gold paper sitting on the kitchen table.

“Who's this for?” he asked.

“Gideon and I wanted to get you a surprise. Hurry, open it!” said Belle. Gideon babbled with excitement, pointing at the present.

He took his time removing the wrapping, folding it into a neat square. He lifted the lid and saw a box of crickets, mealworms, a container of calcium dust and a bottle filled with bright orange cubes. 

“What’s all this?”

“Come see in your office,” she said, grabbing his hand and leading the way.

He stopped short in the doorway. Next to his desk was a large reptile habitat full of beautiful plants. And a chameleon.  
“I contacted the 'Forgotten Friend' and they were agreeable to placing her with us. With the understanding that she can attend the occasional show.”

He opened the door of the habitat, and the lizard climbed up to his shoulder again. Gideon clapped his hands, wiggling with excitement.

“Who's a bonnie wee lass?” he asked the chameleon in a low tone, stroking it with one finger just as he had as a boy. His curse memories and the present came together, and he felt at peace.

“What's her name?”

“She doesn't have one yet. I thought we could come up with a name together.”

“That would be perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "The Cricket Game" and Robert Carlyle's interview for Johnnie Walker's "Walk with Giants" series.


End file.
